Lovesong
by La Luna Unita
Summary: In this AU, with no Hawkmoth or Miraculous, Adrien finds himself bouncing around a silent mansion. He channels his emotions and frustrations into music, sharing the tracks online. His biggest fan is SewSweets, who in real life is Marinette. As Adrien's song collection grows, Marinette's feelings for the mysterious composer do too. But will she ever find a way to meet him?


Adrien looked dubiously at the gray coating the sky outside his window. A few fat raindrops pitter-pattered on the glass and confirmed his suspicions. The outdoor photoshoot schedule for the afternoon would be canceled. He grimaced. He'd really been looking forward to getting out of the mansion, even if was only for work. He flopped down onto his couch and sighed. The only thing left on his list for today was piano practice. He eyed the piano over the edge of the couch. Nathalie had left a new sonata on the piano bench; he was supposed to start working on it today and share progress with his dad tonight.

_Might as well get started,_ he thought, but he didn't move. Instead, he grabbed his cell phone from the coffee table in front of the couch and tapped a quick text.

_How's school?_

A reply pinged back almost immediately. _Ugh, boring. You better get over here. Did you enroll yet?_

Adrien didn't bother to type an answer. He and Chloe both knew it was wishful thinking. Dredging up a sigh from the bottom of his soul, Adrien got to his feet and slouched over to the piano. He swiped the sheet music off the bench, sat down, and turned on the narrow lamp above the music stand. He studied the paper in front of him for a few minutes, then settled it above the keyboard and got started.

He had to admit that playing piano was something he enjoyed. Adrien let himself get caught up in the complexity of the piece, until one particularly difficult spot caused him to play the wrong chord. _Wait, _was _that the wrong chord?_ he asked himself. He tracked back to the spot and played it again. Oh, yeah, technically it was. But his chord hadn't sounded sour or out of place. In fact, it was unusually pretty.

He played the chord again as an arpeggio, drawing each note out in succession until they gave him goosebumps. _Wow_. He took two of the notes down low with his left hand, and played a made-up melody with his right. Adrien glanced at the sheet music and bit his lip. He should be practicing the piece, but he didn't want to forget his chord. In fact, the whole melody wasn't bad, especially as his left hand set a gentle rhythm. He played it, over and over. It felt like it was building to something. He switched chords and felt a sensation akin to a slap in the face. Ouch, no. That was definitely not right. He pressed two or three more chords down, feeling his way into the music, and smiled when the sound reached his ears. That was more like it!

The rest of impromptu piece flowed easily. It wasn't classical, obviously; his dad would frown on it. It wasn't a blaring pop song from a modeling gig either. Realization hit him: the song was his. He'd _created _this song. Excitement electrified his arms, making his fingers nearly nerveless. Should he... should he share it with Father? No. Chloe, maybe? No, not yet.

He played it through again—there were some subtle changes as he felt his way through the piece, but he genuinely liked it. Adrien pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the voice recorder app. The quality would probably suck, but at least he wouldn't forget his own song. He played it through into the app twice and saved the file.

Nathalie poked her head in the door just as he was locking his phone screen.

"It's sounding good, Adrien," she complimented.

Adrien smiled nervously. Nathalie wouldn't know J.S. Bach from a pounding jackhammer; she always said he sounded good.

"Thanks, Nathalie. Hey, I had an idea. Sometimes I record myself to check tempo and stuff like that—it helps me improve. Do you think I could get a microphone? Or maybe even an electric keyboard? Those play directly into digital files you can put on the computer. Not to replace the real piano or anything—I know Father insists on the grand piano. It would help a lot, though. Please?" Adrien lifted his eyebrows in his most subtle version of puppy dog eyes.

Nathalie might not know music, but she knew manipulation. He kept the pleading look on his face to an absolute minimum as her lips thinned in thought._ Stay polite, keep eye contact_, he counseled himself as he held his breath.

"I'll ask your father. Finish up what you're doing; dinner is in half an hour," Nathalie replied.

Adrien let out a huge sigh around a smile as his door closed softly behind her. _Yes!_

* * *

Marinette groaned and threw herself backward in her office chair, toes trailing as it rolled across her bedroom floor.

"What's bugging you?" Alya asked, glancing up from her perch on the chaise lounge.

"I can't find anything good to listen to while I sew. This is supposed to be our work-on-projects day, and you're all set with your laptop and earbuds and a million ideas to research, but I've run out of music," complained Marinette.

Alya smiled and shook her head. "It's not that big of a deal. We can find you something. Did you sign up for BirdieMuse like Nino suggested? He said a lot of independent musicians are uploading music there. It's getting popular."

"Oh, I did! I forgot about that." Marinette rolled back over to her desk and clicked her mouse.

The music sharing app loaded up and colorful album covers paraded across her computer screen. Several artists had simple profile pictures in place of professional photographs; Marinette assumed those must be more amateur artists.

"I don't even know what I like today. My brain is being difficult," Marinette muttered as Alya came over to stare at the screen with her.

"Try an alphabetical listing. Can't hurt." Alya shrugged.

Marinette scrolled back and forth, looking for a name that sounded interesting. The word _Fashion_ caught her eye in the listing for F and she stopped to take a closer look. _FashionForte_, located in Paris, France, had submitted five tracks in the past month. Well, if this person liked fashion and design as much as Marinette did, then the music would be good, right? The profile picture featured a black cat with green eyes. She decided to chance it.

A sweetly somber piano tune swelled as Marinette adjusted her speakers, filling her room with sound. The girls looked at each other, eyes widening.

"Wow," they said in unison.

The melody sent a little thrill through Marinette.

"Seriously good call," she said as Alya returned to the chaise. The pair put _FashionForte_'s tracks on a loop and settled down to work.

Alya left around dinnertime, leaving Marinette alone in her room. She finally turned off the mellow piano music she'd let play all afternoon. Curious, she clicked on FashionForte's profile. Other than the picture of the black cat and the location of Paris, France, there weren't many details. The Artist Summary read: _Just a guy who likes music_. Each song had a space next to the title entry for artist notes, but they were all empty. _Oooookay_, thought Marinette. Her cursor hovered over the Comment box for the page. _Why not?_ She clicked it and started typing.

_Hi FF! I'm SewSweets and I live in Paris, too. I love your songs—they inspired me today as I was working. I hope you'll post more! Have a great day._

Satisfied, Marinette sent the message. She remembered to subscribe to FashionForte at the last second, then closed the app and headed downstairs to eat with her parents.

The next morning was Sunday and Marinette relished the chance to sleep in. She finally opened her eyes when soft sunshine filtered down through her skylight. Weightless dust motes danced through beams of light as Marinette laid under her comforter. She groggily counted up things she wanted to do with her day. With a yawn and a stretch, she pulled herself upright and knuckled sleep out of her eyes.

Once she was down the stairs of her loft, Marinette sat down at her desk and wiggled her mouse. An icon in the corner of her screen caught her attention. An update from BirdieMuse? She opened it and found that FashionForte had uploaded a new song. For the first time, the notes section had an entry.

"This is the first song I wrote. I've been working on it for a while and it's finally ready to share. Hope you like it."

The note didn't mention Marinette personally, but somehow she felt like the recipient. She clicked the track title:_ In the Rain_. From the opening chords to the build of the melody, Marinette found herself lost in a swirl of emotions as the short track played. It didn't sound so much like rain coming down as it did the quiet drops that fell from the eaves outside her window. She closed her eyes against the sun streaming in, letting a gentle melancholy settle over her as the song evoked memories of gray days. An image rose in her mind of long fingers pressing piano keys as a rainstorm raged outside. The face of the person in her mind was just a blur, but she could see the confident hands that created a beautiful melody. The piece concluded and Marinette opened her eyes.

She went back to the comment she'd left for FashionForte. Her single statement from yesterday sat there with no response. Nonetheless, she typed one in the new song's comment box.

In the Rain_ is beautiful. I like it the best out of all your songs. It's the first one you wrote? You are very talented. Hope you have a nice Sunday._

Marinette backed out to FashionForte's artist page and played the six tracks on repeat as she got dressed. She grinned. It felt like she'd added a new gem to her collection.

* * *

Adrien thumbed open the notification from BirdieMuse on his phone. SewSweets had left another comment. Well, he had one fan at least. Probably a retired matron with a candy habit that enjoyed quilting. Nonetheless, now that he'd started writing, he didn't plan to stop. Nathalie had really come through. Adrien had a keyboard that recorded directly to his computer and a great pair of headphones, so no one in the house could even hear him playing wrong notes and trying out chords. He was keeping up his classical practice too, so he'd probably doubled the amount of time he played piano over the last month.

His dad would almost certainly frown on Adrien writing and sharing music. Adrien had deliberately kept his profile vague so it couldn't be traced back to him. Even if Nathalie or Chloe or someone he knew came across the BirdieMuse account, which was unlikely, they'd never have a clue. And ultimately, the extra practice was paying off. Adrien could see the tiny approving twitch of a smile on Father's face when he came in to hear Adrien's musical progress every week. Now, if only music could solve all his other problems…

Adrien had made a couple of attempts to go to Chloe's school, but he hadn't yet made it to the door. Nathalie and the Gorilla were always hot on his trail in his father's gray sedan, waiting for him at the steps of Francois Dupont. He had no choice but to turn back to the mansion or make a scene, and he definitely wasn't going to embarrass his father by making a scene on a school sidewalk. He stopped texting Chloe about enrolling after Nathalie and the Gorilla foiled the second attempt. It wasn't fair to get Chloe's hopes up. If he accomplished sneaking into Francois Dupont, it would have to be a surprise.

Adrien sighed and sat up. He was perched on the stairs outside the front door of the mansion, taking in the nice weather while doing homework. He wiggled his feet in his sneakers and tapped his soles against the marble. The part of Paris he could see outside the mansion gates was quiet on a Sunday morning. He slapped his textbook closed and tucked his pencil behind his ear, grinning. He couldn't deny it. SewSweets' kind words made him want to get back to the piano. He looked at the comment one more time, then headed up to his room.

* * *

A month after discovering FashionForte, Marinette was still hooked on his music. He'd changed his profile picture—a single eye, peridot with darker flecks of emerald at the edges of the iris. He'd built a small following too, but never replied to any of the comments. He seemed content just to drop beauty on them every other week. Marinette left a comment on every single song, except for one entitled "Chloe". She tried not to let her nemesis make her biased against the song, she really did. But the tune was as irritating and bossy as the Chloe she knew—full of pecky, short notes. Marinette eventually dropped it from her playlist altogether.

She worked on projects as she listened and daydreamed about the composer. Maybe he was... only about eighteen or so, like, older than her—but not _too _much older. Maybe he had a beard! Mmm, no, she wasn't ready for a beard. Maybe he had black hair like the cat in his old picture. Marinette knew it was silly, but she couldn't deny she wanted to know more about FashionForte. She worried she was wasting daydreams on a forty-something recluse, stuck up in a tower in a ritzy part of Paris. Nah. The songs felt younger than that. She thought they did, anyway.

Marinette's phone rang and she leaned over to see Alya's face on the caller ID. She swiped the video call open.

"So, how is the hat going?" asked Alya.

"I'm almost done, but I forgot to grab a feather for the brim! I have a little bit of embroidery to finish up for the hat band and then I guess I'll head back to the Trocadero—there were lots of pigeons there earlier." Marinette let her tongue slip to one side of her mouth as she concentrated.

Alya shook her head on the phone screen, curls bouncing. "_I'll_ get the feather. I want to meet you at the school and watch you win this competition. It'll be great for the school blog. And you're about to meet your fashion icon! I'm going to get pictures of you melting into a puddle."

Marinette frowned, but both girls dissolved into giggles.

"I'll do my best to keep it together. I really don't want to embarrass myself, Alya." Anxiety rose up in Marinette's chest and she shook her cramped hands out.

"Chill, girl, you won't. You know I was kidding. And I'll be right next to you the whole time. You're going to do awesome," Alya replied confidently.

Marinette felt some of her tightness ease as she looked at the honest belief on her best friend's face. "Thanks, Alya."

"No problem. I'll see you in half an hour, and I'll bring the feather." Alya broke the connection and Marinette bent her head to get a closer look at the hat band.

Half an hour later, Marinette raced down from her room, tossed a goodbye to her parents, and crossed the street to her school. She was nervous about participating in Gabriel Agreste's derby hat competition, but her feather-based design really was good and she was proud of the work she'd put in. Mr. Agreste had a son around Marinette's age who would wear the winning hat, so he'd likely be there too. Chloe was gaga over the boy, always telling everyone that she was friends with him, but no one had ever seen them hang out. Marinette rolled her eyes. Adrien Agreste looked nice enough in the magazine photos she'd seen of him, but Marinette knew looks could be deceiving. If he was anything like Chloe, he'd be a bratty, entitled nightmare.

She rushed into the open doors and saw Alya waiting, feather in hand. Marinette skidded to a stop in the courtyard.

"Where have you been?" Alya hissed. "They're about to start."

Marinette took the feather and tucked it in. "You got the perfect one. Let's go!"

The girls crossed to the center of the courtyard where several podiums had been erected. She set her hat down delicately on the last open podium, then looked at the competition. There were several good designs, but Alya elbowed her sharply and pointed. Marinette hissed in anger. Chloe and Sabrina stood next to a very familiar-looking derby hat, smug smiles on their faces.

"She stole my design!" whispered Marinette.

Alya's eyes were wide as she nodded. Marinette mulled over whether to say anything or simply wait. Chloe didn't know it, but she was too clever for her own good. Marinette could easily prove ownership, and she didn't even need to go get her sketchbook to do it. Better to wait until the judging was complete, she decided. If she said anything now, it might disqualify them both or bias Mr. Agreste's judging. Speaking of, where was he?

Marinette turned away from her cheating competition and looked around. A tall woman with a red streak in her dark hair stood next to Mr. Damocles, primly clutching a tablet. Next to her stood the famous Adrien Agreste. He was tan and good-looking, but didn't seem inclined to smile. _He's probably too good for us,_ thought Marinette, eyeing him up and down.

"Where is Mr. Agreste?" Mr. Damocles asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

Adrien shifted his feet uncomfortably as the woman held up her tablet. Gabriel Agreste's face appeared on the screen, looking perfectly coiffed.

"I'm here," he replied.

Marinette and Alya exchanged glances. He was only looking at the hats through a camera? He wasn't at the school himself? Crestfallen, Marinette sighed. So much for meeting her fashion hero in person.

"Nathalie, please take me to the hats. I would like to see them from every angle," Gabriel Agreste intoned from the tablet.

"Yes, sir," said Nathalie.

Adrien followed them, rubbing his elbow. Marinette watched as he waved at Chloe, who wiggled her fingers with a saccharine smile on her face. Marinette hoped Adrien didn't get a say in which hat was chosen. Apparently he _was _friends with Chloe, and Marinette knew she'd use every advantage she could.

They walked around three hats before coming to Marinette's podium. She had to stifle a smile at Alya's antsy fidgeting. Marinette could feel her own heart beating a mile a minute, but she tried to keep the emotion off of her face. It was time to act professional.

Nathalie stopped, holding the tablet so that Mr. Agreste was eye level with Marinette's hat.

"And this is, uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Mr. Damocles said, peering down at a note card in his hand.

"Hello, Marinette," Nathalie and Mr. Agreste said in unison.

"Hello," said Adrien, holding out one hand with a shy smile.

Marinette blinked. Adrien Agreste's green eyes were electrifying in person. And they seemed familiar, somehow. She must have seen him in more magazines than she'd realized. She shook his hand numbly, recovering from the disappointment of his father's absence.

"Hello," she said back, managing little more than a whisper.

Alya stared hard at Marinette for a beat before holding her own hand out to shake. "Hi, I'm Alya Cesaire, reporter for the school blog. I'm here to write an article on the winning hat."

Adrien let go of Marinette's hand, politely reaching for Alya's in turn. The spell was broken. Marinette shook her head a little to clear it.

"Tell us about your hat, Miss," prompted Mr. Agreste.

Marinette picked up her hat with shaking hands, but spoke clearly. "Everything on my derby hat is handmade, from the embroidery, to the weaving of the band, to the stitching on the brim. All done by myself."

She showed off the features of the hat with a little flourish, then set it back on the podium. Adrien, Mr. Damocles, and Nathalie walked away to the next hat.

"Nice job, Marinette," Alya whispered, "but what are you going to do about Chloe?"

"Just wait," Marinette replied, keeping her voice low.

"Is this a joke?" They heard Mr. Agreste ask as he viewed Chloe's hat.

The tablet swung to Marinette and Alya, then back to Chloe and Sabrina. Chloe timed her waterworks perfectly.

"How could you, Marinette? You stole my design? It's scandalous!" she wailed as Sabrina patted her arm. Mr. Agreste's eyes took on a sympathetic cast as he watched the scene unfold.

_Time to step in before this goes too far,_ Marinette thought. She came forward into the camera's view.

"Mr. Agreste? I'm sorry about the situation, but I can prove that this derby hat is my original design," she declared, holding her hat with care.

"Oh, really? Go ahead," he replied.

"There's a special design element that only the true designer knows about. I signed mine," she said.

Marinette turned her hat upside down and displayed the gold embroidery in the light. It spelled out _Marinette_ in neat cursive, fanciful enough to be mistaken for embellishment.

The group startled as Chloe's podium fell over onto the floor. She ran off without another word, still sobbing. Sabrina stood like a deer in headlights until they turned their attention back to Marinette and her derby hat.

_So dramatic,_ Marinette thought, rolling her eyes.

"You certainly have the laboring hands of a hat maker, Marinette," Mr. Agreste said. "Congratulations. You win the contest."

His lips scrunched in what Marinette imagined was meant to be a smile, and then the tablet went dark.

Marinette stared at it for a moment, unsure whether her ears had heard correctly. Alya's whoop of delight brought her back to reality.

"Congratulations, Marinette!" she enthused.

"Congratulations!" Nathalie and Mr. Damocles echoed.

"Congratulations, Marinette. I had a feeling you would win," Adrien said, coming closer.

"Oh, uh, you did? Wait, aren't you friends with Chloe?" Marinette asked, puzzled.

Adrien let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, um we've known each other since we were kids. I'm sorry she tried to steal your design. So dramatic."

Marinette smiled at his unconscious echo of her thoughts. Adrien Agreste was actually pretty nice. Too bad he wasn't attending Francois Dupont like Chloe always insisted he would.

"So where do you go to school?" she asked curiously, but Nathalie stepped in before Adrien could answer.

"It's time to leave. Miss Dupain-Cheng, we'll send a courier to your home to pick up the hat in three days. Is that alright?" she asked.

Marinette could tell Nathalie was taking her 'yes' for granted. She didn't even look up from her tablet.

"S-sure. Sounds great," Marinette agreed, taken aback at the woman's brisk manner.

They exchanged information. Nathalie swept Adrien out of the school so quickly that Marinette could almost believe the entire experience was a dream—until she saw Alya snapping photos of her derby hat. Marinette packed it up carefully in its hat box, inner elation making every movement a delight.

"I really won!" Marinette laughed to herself.

She thought she'd feel drained, but her mind came up with new project ideas all the way home from school. She grabbed her sketchbook and opened up Birdiemuse on her computer. Marinette navigated to her FashionForte playlist. She had a particular song in mind, an energetic anthem that always got her blood pumping. She typed a new comment on the track.

_Today was a huge victory, FF,_ she began. _I'm gonna play _Bounce Out Of Here_ full blast and shake the walls! Thanks for always inspiring me._

Marinette grinned and sent the message, not caring whether FashionForte read it or not. The bubbly, fast paced tune she put on turned her empty bedroom into a victory celebration. She cranked the volume on her speakers and spun around and around in her chair, giggling like a little kid.

* * *

Adrien was on his final round of Mecha Strike 3 when his phone pinged. He recognized the sound—Birdiemuse had its own tone. He smiled as he fired at his opponent; it was probably SewSweets with something about his latest song. She never took long to listen and make a new comment. He was still smiling after reading her words about Bounce Out of Here. Adrien had gained a decent following in the past months, but SewSweets was definitely his biggest fan. She commented on everything with the exception of his song for Chloe. The absence of text revealed how she felt far more than a negative review, he thought sardonically. Finished with his game, he turned over his cell phone to check the messages.

The smile dropped from his face when he saw SewSweets' newest comment. She'd gone back to one of his earliest tracks, entitled _Solo_. Adrien had written it just after his father cancelled a trip to the coast. The days of sun and time with his dad had been replaced with Adrien's same old lonely view of Paris while his father worked day and night on next fall's fashion line. Adrien's disappointment had spilled across the keyboard with a sad, slow melody complemented by quiet minor chords for the left hand.

_I think I really screwed up, FF. I don't know how to fix it. I don't want to be all alone again. nm, goodnight._

Brow furrowed, Adrien read the comment three times. This was nothing like the ebullient SewSweets he'd gotten used to. She felt alone? He clicked on her profile and opened a direct message.

_Hey, are you okay?_

He left the dialogue open for a few seconds, not really expecting a response. Surprised, he noticed three dots illuminate the bottom of the screen. SewSweets was typing!

_Hey, FF. Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry I bothered you. Had a fight with my best friend. It's no big deal, really._

_Oh,_ Adrien replied. _Well, I'm here if you want to talk._

The dialogue box stayed empty for a few moments.

_Thanks. I didn't know whether you even read my comments,_ came the hesitant reply.

_Oh yeah, every single one! Honestly, I would have stopped composing months ago if you didn't comment on everything_, Adrien typed.

_Wow, really? _SewSweets replied.

_I sort of started by accident, and I didn't know if my songs were any good._

_I'm no music critic, but I really like them. As I've said before, lol._

Adrien grinned, a blush creeping up his cheeks. _Thank you again anyway! So, what was this fight about?_

_Honestly, I don't want to talk about it. I'll call her tomorrow and work it out. Hey, how old are you?_

_14\. How old are you?_

_That's cool. I'm 13. How are you so good at piano at 14?_

_...lots of practice?_

_Okay, fair enough._

Adrien chatted with SewSweets for about half an hour, a half-smile tugging at his lips the whole time. He found out that she did, in fact, like sewing and wanted to design clothes. If only there were some way he could introduce her to his father! But that would never work out. He had no intention of telling SewSweets anything about himself that could reveal his identity. Making a new friend was awesome, though. In hindsight, he couldn't remember why he decided not to respond to the comments on his page. Adrien yawned, ending on a happy sigh. It was late and he was tired.

* * *

Marinette harrumphed to herself and scrunched down into her movie theatre seat. She and Alya had quickly patched things up the day after their fight. They'd even made plans to go see an old movie on the big screen—one that starred Gabriel Agreste's wife, Emilie. Unfortunately, now Alya had to babysit her sisters according to the text on Marinette's phone. Marinette sighed. She hated going to the movies alone.

She looked around and realized she was going to be much more alone than she'd anticipated. There was exactly one other person in the theatre—someone down front, with blond hair.

The previews wouldn't start for another ten minutes, so Marinette took out her phone to pass the time. She saw a new message from FashionForte and opened it eagerly.

_Hope you have a great day!_ It read.

Marinette felt her heart warm. She tapped a response.

_So far, so good. I'm at the movies, but my friend had to bail. It'll be fun anyway._ Her phone plinked as the message sent.

Down below, the blond shifted as a chime sounded quietly. Marinette _tsked _to herself.

They both needed to silence their phones, but they still had a few minutes. She couldn't see his screen from her vantage point, but he was clearly typing.

Her phone chimed as a response from FF came in.

_Nice! That sounds fun. I'm at the movies, too. Not something current, though. Old romance; I know that's uncool, but I don't care._

Marinette stifled a giggle. If only he knew. _I'm sure you're plenty cool,_ she teased. _Friends hanging around your piano, just tripping over themselves to hear your latest composition._

She hit send, and heard the blond's phone chime again a moment later. The person chuckled as they read the screen. Well, that was weird. Wait—FashionForte… was at an old movie? Texting her? Marinette's suspicion grew as she watched the blond type, then heard her phone chime.

She opened the message.

_Ha, whatever. I'm by myself, too. Needed to get out of the house._

The butterflies percolating in Marinette's stomach plummeted. She stood up, just as the lights darkened. Crap! She had to know anyway. She stumbled down her row, thankful no one else was seated. Uncertain, she stopped at the row behind the blond and crept along, touching each seat she passed in the near dark.

The theatre's corny "silence your phone, please" film was playing as she found the seat she wanted and leaned forward.

"Excuse me," she hissed in a loud stage whisper.

The blond—close to her age, she noticed—looked up, startled.

"Are you—" she started, but he interrupted.

"Adrien Agreste. Yes, I am. Do you mind, though? I'm trying to watch this movie." He turned back to the screen.

Marinette blinked, taken aback. It _was _Adrien! She felt her cheeks warm. How embarrassing. There was no way _Gabriel Agreste's son_ could be FashionForte.

"That's not what I was going to ask," she mumbled, sitting abruptly in the seat behind him.

Marinette tried to let go of her disappointment and bewilderment as the previews started. Adrien hadn't recognized her in the dark, and to be fair, they'd only met once. It was possible he'd already forgotten about her. Oh, and clearly he was at the movie to watch his mother on screen, which explained his curt response. Marinette decided she shouldn't take it personally.

She looked glumly at the preview reel for the theatre's summer classics series. She'd been mistaken. But something sparked when she looked down at her typed but unsent message to FF. One eyebrow cocked, she hit send.

Adrien Agreste's phone pinged instantaneously. Too excited to be embarrassed, she held her breath and leaned in as he lifted his phone. She could clearly see the notification that a message from SewSweets was unread.

Marinette fell back against her theatre seat, sucker punched. It was true! Adrien Agreste _was _FashionForte, a teen pianist and composer whose beautiful melodies accompanied her on her darkest and brightest days. That the heart of the artist was clothed in such a handsome facade was almost inconsequential. No, not inconsequential. It was the final nail in the coffin. She realized she'd been nursing a quiet crush on her new online friend, impeded only by his anonymity and the possibility he wasn't who he said he was. Now the truth hit her like a wave of fuzzy soda bubbles all the way to her fingers and toes. Marinette took a deep breath, collecting herself.

She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, movie or no movie, when the screen went dark in front of them. She looked up, only to find the view had been blocked by a mountainous unit of a man. Alarm flared in her stomach and she shrank back into her padded seat. The man's bushy brows were drawn low and his lips made a frowning half-circle of displeasure. Marinette could almost see smoke issuing from his nostrils.

"Oh," Adrien muttered as he gazed up and up at the human tree trunk standing in front of them. "It's you."

He sighed with a bone-weariness that confused Marinette. Shouldn't they be screaming in terror? Maybe fleeing? Instead, Adrien meekly put his phone away and stood.

Wordless, the man gestured for Adrien to precede him from the theatre. Adrien shuffled along with his head bowed. With one last, longing look at the movie screen, he was gone.

Marinette stayed rooted to her seat, mind awhirl with all that she'd discovered. She tried to watch the film, but she couldn't concentrate on it at all. Shaking her head in disbelief, she left the theatre as well and ran straight to Alya's apartment.

Alya answered frantic knocking to find a wild-eyed Marinette on the other side of the door. Her best friend rushed in and threw herself down on the couch, interrupting the game the twins were playing. Surprised, Alya shut the door and turned back toward the living room.

"Marinette! I thought you were at the theatre."

Chest heaving, Marinette dramatically threw her arm over her face. "Alya, I met FashionForte at the movie!"

"Whaaa?! How do you know?" Alya rushed to sit beside her.

"We were messaging before the movie started. I saw his phone with my name on it. My username, I mean! 100% positive proof. And Alya," her voice dropped to a screech-whisper, "_it's Adrien Agreste!_"

"Who's Adrien Agreste?" Etta asked.

"Snack time! Let's get you two set up in the kitchen," Alya announced.

Two snacks and a modicum of privacy later, Alya and Marinette regrouped in the living room, heads close together.

"So FashionForte is definitely Adrien Agreste? Wow, he's one talented guy. I wonder what else he can do." Alya had her phone out in moments.

The pair read an interview and bio that listed modeling, fencing, and piano as his main activities, as well as Chinese language studies.

"How can this possibly be the same guy I traded Mecha Strike jokes with the other day?" wondered Marinette.

"Hmmm. Well, as a reporter, you learn that the printed word isn't always the full view of a person. It's more important to remember that when you read bad things about someone, but in this case, Mr. Perfect is clearly also into video games. A shame that didn't make it into the article." Alya grinned and tossed her auburn hair.

Marinette groaned and closed her eyes. "Alya, what do I do? Do I play it cool? Do I tell him online? I have to meet him—or well, not meet him, I've already done that—but I have to get to _know _him. I was trying to deny it, but I was totally falling for him before I even knew he had a face. I mean, before I knew what his face looked like! And now he's totally handsome, and that's great—or is it worse?—and ugh, what do I do, Alya?"

Alya's grin grew wider. "Wait, you're crushing on him? How did I not notice this?"

Marinette opened her eyes and shrugged. "There was no point in mentioning it. He didn't even message with me until you and I fought a couple weeks back. I think he felt sorry for me. But yeah, I was kinda um… romanticizing him from his music? Just being silly. And now he's real and kinda awesome."

"He was always real, but I get what you mean." Alya tapped her finger against her chin. "Wait a minute. This is the same guy Chloe is always gushing about. Doesn't he want to come to our school or something? And he was kind of okay at the hat competition, too."

"Yeah, he was, wasn't he? I never trust Chloe to be in possession of the facts, but that's right—she's talked constantly this year about whether he'll show up, and then he never does. Do you think he's been trying to enroll? What would stop him?" Puzzled, Marinette rested her chin on her hands.

Alya held her phone outward so Marinette could see. "Um, he literally has a song titled "I Wish I Were at School". I think Chloe might be right—just this once."

Marinette wrinkled her nose. "I thought that title was a joke."

With a gasp, Alya clapped both hands to her mouth. She stood and grabbed Marinette by the shoulders, dragging her up from the couch. "Girl, I just figured out what we're going to do! Here, listen to this…"

* * *

Adrien sidled up to the exterior stairs of Francois Dupont, looking in every direction at once for Nathalie or the Gorilla to appear. Nervous, he rubbed his hands together and mounted the staircase. Other kids were funneling into the entrance alongside him and for once, he wasn't the center of anyone's attention. He wasn't sure if that felt good or not. Chin tucked down into his collar, he crossed the stone threshold.

_Made it!_ He thought, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He darted to the right of the main doors and pressed himself against the wall. A final peek outside revealed none of his father's employees. Had he really—finally—gotten away with it?

Adrien whipped out his phone and fired off a message. _I'm inside the doors. I don't think they followed me._

_That's great! _SewSweets messaged back. _I'm really proud of you, FF. Do you know which classroom you're supposed to go to?_

_Mme. Bustier, _he replied. That was Chloe's class.

_Then get going!_

Adrien put the phone away, but as he stepped forward a girl with auburn hair and glasses took notice of him.

"Hey! Aren't you Adrien Agreste, the famous teen model?

Adrien backed away from her, but a boy nearby with a red hat and glasses perked up.

"Did you say Adrien Agreste? Here at Francois Dupont?"

The pair advanced toward him. He glanced at a staircase nearby, unsure where to go. A tiny blonde girl and a willowy brunette with streaks of purple in her hair stood up from a bench.

"Adrien? Really?"

"Wow!"

Adrien turned to bolt. If word got out this soon, he'd be back at the mansion within the hour! He started up the stairs, but a hand grabbed his upper arm. A girl with pigtails yanked him along behind her, away from the growing crowd.

"Locker room! Quick!" she hissed.

They ducked into the locker room and found it fortuitously empty.

"Thanks," Adrien huffed. "I only just walked in the door and I don't know my classroom or anything yet."

"No problem, FF. I've got your back."

They stood in silence, Adrien taking a moment to get his breath and the girl just staring him down. Something felt off to Adrien. He shouldn't—wait. She hadn't called him Adrien. She hadn't called him a name at all, at least, not one that anyone knew. He looked at the girl with dawning realization.

"_SewSweets_?" He asked in disbelief.

She tried to keep a straight face, but her lips gave a funny little wriggle and she burst out laughing.

"I'm so sorry, FF—I mean Adrien! That look was priceless."

"What is going on? You go here? To this school, with Chloe?" Adrien looked all around the room, but the two of them were still the only ones inside.

The girl grimaced at the name, but nodded. "Yeah, I know her."

"How did you know this was where I meant when I said school? Wait, how do you even know _who I am_?" Adrien found his head spinning a little and he sat down on a nearby bench. SewSweets sat next to him, concern threading the little wrinkle in her brow.

"Let's start with the movies…" she said.

The pigtailed girl gave him a run down of recognizing him, then inexplicably blushed as she explained how she'd figured out he wanted to go to school and encouraged him to chat about it in Birdiemuse. In hindsight, his wish to join other teens at school wasn't exactly a mystery, he had to admit. He noticed two of the kids from the courtyard poke their heads in around the time she was done explaining that they hadn't actually mobbed him— it had been a set-up.

"So once you figured out who I was, it wasn't too difficult to steer me toward another attempt at coming to Francois Dupont," he stated, looking at her with new eyes.

The girl blushed even brighter and nodded her head, scrunching her eyes closed.

"I-I should apologize, Adrien. It wasn't fair of me to push you to come here, but I didn't know how else I could finally _really _meet you. I just want to be friends, online and in real life."

Adrien stared at the small teen next to him. She looked so sweet and innocent. Who could believe such a calculating mind hid behind her pleasant facade? The girl nervously clutched her hands in her lap. She let go when Adrien threw back his head and laughed.

"I needed the push. Coming here is what I wanted! You just coordinated the timing, that's all. And—hold on, what's your name?"

"Marinette."

"Marinette," Adrien replied, smiling around the word. "I remember now. You won the hat competition. And stood up to Chloe in the process! Yeah, I suppose I can't actually be surprised at what you can pull off when you set your mind to it."

He grinned at her and was rewarded with a small smile, but Marinette wouldn't meet his eyes. He dipped his head low, bringing his face close to hers.

"After the way you've encouraged me and been there for me, Marinette, I could never call you _just _a friend. Thank you."

For the first time, the girl lifted her bright blue eyes and Adrien could see her worry drain away. She smiled and he couldn't help but reach forward for a hug. Marinette hugged him back, arms wrapped around his ribs. Her hair smelled unusually sweet, like sugar. _SewSweets_, he thought, privately amused at the connection.

"C'mon, Friend, let's go to class," she suggested once they'd separated.

Adrien followed her out of the locker room, feeling the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts and heart. No, Marinette was definitely more than just a friend.


End file.
